


The Bundt Singularity

by cerie



Category: Stargate SG-1
Genre: F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-29
Updated: 2012-05-29
Packaged: 2017-11-06 05:18:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,531
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/415133
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cerie/pseuds/cerie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jack O'Neill just isn't the kind of guy to look a gift cake in the Bundt.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Bundt Singularity

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Callie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Callie/gifts).



> IDK where this came from, really, considering this is not a fandom I normally write in nor the fic I sat down to write tonight. I blame the lemony buttery goodness of pound cake.

Cake. Big pieces, small pieces - there was _cake_ all over his office and Jack really wasn’t sure why. He’d had a couple dreams that had started this way, all the myriad paperwork required to run the SGC miraculously turning into baked goods and Jack wasn’t enough of a skeptic to dismiss it out of hand. Instead, he pinched his left arm (uh, _ouch_ ) and swiped a plate of cake with his right hand before sinking down into his chair to enjoy it.

Except, shit, there was cake there too and when Jack jumped back up to his feet, the cake on the plate slid down onto the floor in a sad little mockery of sugary, buttercream goodness and Jack figured his face had sauntered vaguely down in the same direction. Yeah. Not so good. But! Bright side! He thought he’d seen another of the buttercreamy flowery pieces over by his phone and as he leaned in to get it, there was a sharp rap on the door and it swung in.

One of the good things about being the general and being in charge of this dog and pony show was that other people saluted him and if he was a little...out of it, nobody was really going to say anything. It was nice, the power of the office, and the glory of being the one they all brought...

“Sir, I’m sorry, I didn’t realize they were all going to...come here. Exactly.” Jack looked from the cake libations to the face of an exasperated (and delightfully pink, when did that happen?) Carter. Apparently she had something to do with the cake and while Carter was one of his favorite people on a regular basis anyway, if she was responsible for bringing him gifts of fluffy, light-as-air bakery confections, she was rocketing right to the top of the list. Proverbial list. That had nothing to do with her various skills in astrophysics and gate technology and other assorted sciencery and acts of valor because, really, basing a promotion on the direct proportion of cake brought to his office would just be stupid.

Except...no. Not going down that road. Every Tom, Dick and Harry on the base would be cupcaking his way into a set of stripes and then Jack would be so big he couldn’t even get out of his office to do the ceremony. Nope. No basing promotional merit stuff on cake distribution. Completely unbecoming of a general, even if said general was currently using frosting to polish his stars.

“What... _is_ all this? I’m not the kind of guy to look a gift cake in the bundt but uh, I don’t normally get caked between meetings. If you have something to do with this wonderful occurrence please tell me how and let me schedule it more often?” Especially considering he was going to have to hide this from Teal’c. If the sweet tooth for donuts held out, there wouldn’t be much cake left once T came through.

“The wedding, Sir. I told Pete I would pay for all of the deposits out of pocket so he wouldn’t be out since we called it off and apparently the caterer said we still had to have all the samples even though I told them we weren’t actually having a ceremony any longer. I wasn’t proactive in having the samples routed to an acceptable location considering we’ve been off-world and I guess they decided your office was good enough. Apologies. Really.”

It was all awkward and Carter got pinker and pinker as time went on, to the point where it wasn’t really funny anymore and Jack just sort of had pity for her. It was hard, breaking up a long-term relationship and while he’d never actually _say_ this to Carter, maybe it’s better that she and Pete figured it out before there was a marriage and kids to worry about. He and Sarah had ended up messy and irreparable and while he doubts, seriously, that Carter’s ever going to see Pete again, at least she wasn’t an ass to him. Couldn’t have been, if she’s going out of pocket for the expenses.

“Yeah, not really seeing a downside to my office getting redecorated with your purchases. Now, you start leaving potpourri or something in here and we’re gonna have words but cake? Who could ever be upset about cake?”

Carter nodded, seemingly relieved, and then her shoulders started shaking and she bit down, hard, on her lower lip to keep from making a sound. Jack tilted his head a little, unsure of what had Carter so damn amused, and one eyebrow arched up in a piss-poor impersonation of Teal’c. Maybe the eyebrow lifting had to do with the kelnoreeming and he was just never going to be able to get the aerial lift without the appropriate chakra or whatever.

“Care to share with the rest of the class?” Jack twisted a little to see whatever it was she was looking at (and yes, Carter was not a subtle woman at all and he saw exactly where her line of sight had gone. Not that he wasn’t flattered, or anything, and his back end was probably a lot better looking than most men his age because he still ran and...)

“Sir, with the utmost respect owing to a general of the United States Air Force, you have frosting on your...”

Yup. The damn cake that had been sitting in his chair had left something behind and while frosting all down the front of his BDUs hadn’t been funny, apparently frosting on his ass was. Maybe it was because it was stealth frosting. Nobody ever expects to get frosted on their ass, after all, and even his training had never prepared him for this. Luckily it was Carter and not Daniel who’d seen him; he’d never hear the end of it otherwise.

“The word you’re looking for, Carter, is ass. I’ve got frosting on my ass. Come on, if you’re gonna use my office as your bakery, you’re gonna help me eat some of this. Pick a plate, have a seat, tell me what’s going on outside of this whole cake...thing.” He punctuated it with a little wave of his hand and while she was still giggling (and, oh yes, it was a giggle and, oh yes, he wasn’t letting her forget it if she was going to be ballsy enough to bring up the frosting on his butt), Carter managed to find a seat not covered in cake and sat.

“Sir, I really don’t think eating all this is going to be conducive to further missions off-world. Being able to move quickly is usually expected.” In spite of her protesting, though, Carter lifted a tiny bit of cake (chocolate, Jack noticed, and maybe that was something to keep in mind for future cake incidents) to her mouth and chewed thoughtfully. Well. One small step for Carter.

“Yeah, well, go run after Daniel later or something. Basketball. I hear squash is an incredibly aerobic activity.” For his part, he was putting a hurting on pound cake and decided if he ever deigned to get married again, that was going to be the cake. Didn’t have to be pretty, didn’t have to have roses and chocolate covered strawberries and all that frou frou shit. Just pound cake. Lemony, heavy, full of real sugar and butter and eggs and not anywhere near the kind of diet a man his age should be eating. That would be the imaginary wedding cake for the imaginary wedding he was not imagining.

“I’ll look into it.” Carter had somehow managed to finish her cake without Jack noticing and put the empty plate on his desk before folding her hands in her lap. She had that look she got sometimes, the one where she wanted to say something and either couldn’t find the words (which was hard to believe, since Carter was clear and concise and nowhere near as convoluted as Daniel half the time) or couldn’t find a way to express them without breaking some arbitrary but likely very real rule. Her eyes got soft, misty, and Jack usually wanted to say something too and it came out something stupid about cake or lunch or some other inane food-related thing.

Food was safe, after all, even if it was wedding food and when so much that could pass between them, silent and not, was a minefield, food wasn’t likely going to be misinterpreted. Jack waited for a moment to see if she’d come out with it and when it looked like she was fumbling with her own brain and her desire _not_ to break the rules, Jack took pity and spoke first. It was the least he could do, since she’d brought him cake.

“Next time, let’s do cupcakes. They’re portable.” The moment was broken and the shiny-wet was gone from Carter’s eyes but he got a laugh and a nod, a hint of her dimple peeking out in a way he hadn’t seen since Jacob passed. 

“I’ll get right on that. I hear they can even deliver those. Might show up when you least expect it.”


End file.
